Sunday, May 24, 2009

A Bridge Made of Straw

I'm not really sure when it happened, but I can tell you somewhere along this road, I tripped and fell. This time it wasn't on purpose, and I wasn't in a drunken stupor. It was a nasty fall, much worse than the blow you took when you were seven and couldn't stay up on rollerskates. It was like every fall you've ever avoided and never wanted:

Uncontrolled
Foreseeable
Doubtful
Hard
Bloody
Unplanned
Dark
...and Lonely.

I would much rather have fallen off the jungle gym, but I got back up because I had found something worth fighting for.


Could we sit awhile?
I want to listen to you
and the quiet night.

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